


spring cleaning

by 1000_directions



Series: luckyverse [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, new traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 17:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13931961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000_directions/pseuds/1000_directions
Summary: “How is cleaning a code?” Bucky asks.“Because I’m going to sweep you off your feet, soldier,” Louis says with a grin.





	spring cleaning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fleetwooded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleetwooded/gifts).



The date has been marked on Louis’ calendar as “Spring Cleaning” for as long as Bucky can remember, which is unusual for many reasons, including: the date marked is nine days before Spring even starts; the calendar is primarily used to keep track of Freddie’s schedule, not Louis’ personal affairs; and Louis Tomlinson fucking hates cleaning and would never plan something like that, especially not so far in advance. Nevertheless, the day has been marked on the calendar that hangs on Louis’ refrigerator, and Bucky has idly wondered about it dozens of times when helping himself to beer or fruit or suspicious leftovers, but whenever he asks, Louis just shrugs and says, “Have to grow up some time, I suppose.”

So when Bucky wakes up on that particular morning, he assumes he will be assisting with the cleaning. He is good at carrying boxes, reaching things on tall shelves, moving furniture, and completing the projects that Louis abandons. He suspects he will do the majority of the cleaning under Louis’ direction, and so he prepares himself for that.

He does not prepare himself for Louis’ sleepy smile as he mumbles, “Happy birthday, love.”

Is it his birthday? He considers the date and his memories. Yes, it is. Today he is one hundred and four years old.

“We’re cleaning for my birthday?” he ventures.

“No,” Louis says with a chuckle. “That was a code so I wouldn’t forget.”

“How is cleaning a code?”

“Because I’m going to sweep you off your feet, soldier,” Louis says with a grin. “I’ve got plans for you.”

“What kind of plans?” Bucky asks, and he feels a thin trickle of excitement creep into his blood. He hasn’t celebrated his birthday since the 40s.

“Good plans. Loads of plans. Can I give you your birthday snog before we discuss details?”

Bucky nods, and he lets himself be kissed. Louis counts out the first eight, but they both lose track soon after that, and then it’s just a luxurious procession of small touches and Louis moaning softly against his mouth. Bucky feels himself uncoiling, releasing tension he didn’t even know he was carrying.

“All right then,” Louis says breathlessly when he pulls back about ten minutes later. “I reckon that was at least one hundred and four.”

It was probably closer to one thousand and four, but Bucky doesn’t mind. Louis’ cheeks are pink, and the skin next to his eyes is crinkled from his smile, and his face is so close that Bucky can count his individual eyelashes, and he thinks this is probably the best birthday he’s ever had.

“Did you really make plans?” Bucky asks. “Or was that kiss supposed to distract me so I’d forget?”

“Of course I made plans,” Louis says with a frown. “This is important. I’ve been planning for ages.”

“Thank you,” Bucky says, using the pads of his fingers to smooth out the wrinkles that have appeared between Louis’ eyebrows.

“I haven’t even told you what the plans are,” Louis says mulishly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky says, and he holds Louis’ face in his hands and gives him one more kiss, just in case they didn’t quite hit the full hundred and four. “I’m just glad to spend the day with you.”

“I’ll allow it,” Louis says. “Anyway, get dressed, and then I’m taking you to the pictures.”

Bucky tilts his head curiously. They’ve been to the movies before, and it didn’t go very well. Bucky doesn’t like being touched in the dark by anyone who isn’t Louis, and the theater was too crowded, and people kept squeezing past them to find their seats, to find different seats, to leave for the restroom or the concession stand and then to come back again, and their bodies were too close to his body. The screen was too bright, the action too rapid and realistic, with too much visual information coming at him too fast. The sound was too loud, and yet not loud enough to drown out all the other sounds from the room, the rustles and coughs that wouldn’t let Bucky forget that he was surrounded by strangers and not in a place where it was safe to let his guard down and enjoy some entertainment.

“Not like where we went before,” Louis says gently. “It’s an old restored theater that still uses film reels. It shouldn’t be crowded on a weekday morning. Maybe a couple of old people. You’ll fit right in, love.”

Bucky tries to glare at Louis for the dig about his age, but he can’t stop the smile spreading across his face. “What film are we seeing?”

“Dunno,” Louis says. “Something funny with singing? Don’t much care about the film, love. Just want to sit in the last row and neck with my steady.” He waggles his eyebrows, and he looks like a beautiful idiot. “Bucky Barnes, I’m going to woo you 1940’s-style.”

“You don’t even know what 1940’s-style wooing looks like,” Bucky says. His stupid smile is beginning to hurt his face.

“Then you can woo me,” Louis says. “Shouldn’t be too much trouble for you, because darling, I’m a slag.”

“Thank you,” Bucky says softly. “This is the nicest surprise.”

“That’s just the first part,” Louis says, taking Bucky’s metal hand in both of his. “C’mon, I said plans. Plural.”

“What else?” Bucky asks.

“I, um.” Louis is looking at their hands, watching his own fingers bend Bucky’s. “We’re going to drive a bit down the coast. I chartered a boat.”

“A boat?”

“Yeah.” Louis clears his throat and smiles crookedly at Bucky. “For whale watching.”

Immediately, Bucky is thrust backwards through time. He’s sitting in a Starbucks, asking Louis to commit to him with the only language he could come up with at the time. He’s sitting by himself in his apartment, reading someone else’s bucket list, convinced that typical human relationships are permanently out of reach for him. He’s seeing his own face on Louis’ Instagram page and wondering why the mirror-Bucky looks content when the real Bucky is so fractured and lonely. And now he’s here, looking at Louis’ cautiously hopeful face, and he’s so in love, and he is so loved in return, and it’s more than any of the past Buckys even dared dream for. It was never even about whales, not then, not now. But in this moment, he loves whales, and he loves Louis, and this is the greatest gift he’s ever been offered.

“You aren’t saying anything, but you look happy,” Louis says. “Is this good? I can cancel it all if you want to do something else.”

“It’s good,” Bucky says. His blood is singing in his veins like a symphony. “It’s so good, Louis.”

“Cheers,” Louis says, and he looks relieved. “Just wanted to do something nice for you, love. I think we’ll have a good time.”

“I can’t wait,” Bucky says. But he already has. He’s waited decades, generations, one hundred and four years for this. He can wait a little while longer.

**Author's Note:**

> always accepting prompts at [tumblr](http://1000-directions.tumblr.com/ask)


End file.
